Neighbors
by ynm
Summary: -:HouseWilson Gen or pre-slash, whichever way you like it:- Otherwise known as 'How Wilson moved into the office next door'.


Title : Neighbors  
Pairing : House/Wilson  
Word Count : 1969 words  
Rating : G  
Disclaimer : ...mine? I wish...  
Author's Note : I just had to write something for them. I was hooked the moment Wilson said "Yeah, he cares." Set pre-series when (hopefully) there were happier times (compared to Season 3). So, FLUFF!! Enjoy!

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The door slammed shut. Lisa Cuddy frowned at the sound, looking up from some administrative documents that needed her _urgent_ attention, as if they all didn't. The source of the sound was apparent. Instead of the cane-totting, blue-eyed Sorry-Excuse-For-A-Human-Being that she had expected, a balding, paunchy man in a white lab coat stood in front of her. Who'd started to turn red and puff up his cheeks the moment he saw that he had her attention. Lisa sighed inwardly. At least with the Sorry-Excuse-For-A-Human-Being, SOB for short, she didn't have to hold back.

"Doctor Richards, what brings you to my office this morning?" Lisa asked the human blowfish. He was turning the most impressive shade of red; Lisa really hoped he wouldn't have a heart failure in her office. It would sound terrible when she had to tell amusing anecdotes to potential donors.

"Doctor Cuddy, do you know what this is?" the man asked belligerently, shaking a piece of rubber in front of Lisa.

"It is…obviously a piece of rubber," Lisa answered, trying to delay the inevitable. She had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"This," again Richards shook the piece of rubber he held, as if he was shaking something – or someone – by the scruff of their neck. Lisa sympathized with that feeling, she felt the exact same way everyday.

"This," Richards continued, "is a whoopee cushion. The third whoopee cushion this week. This particular one was in my office chair. The previous two were in my board meeting seat, as you very well know, and my clinic consultation chair. There was also that incident where my chair was glued to the ground, my locker filled with "pamphlets" for non-existent office space and the never-ending stream of clinic patients that somehow got re-routed to my office. Not to mention the time when I received 29 pizza deliveries. What are you going to do about this?" he demanded.

Lisa blew out the breath she was holding. Some people said that in doing so, you released all the stress that you've accumulated. Everybody lies. "I've already spoken to him and -"

"Spoken? You do not speak to him, you order him! You're the Dean of Medicine, you must be good for _something_," Richards sneered.

Lisa glared at him and silently counted backwards from ten as Richards fidgeted under her glare. "As a reminder, I am not only his boss but yours as well. It would serve you well to watch what you say," Lisa said icily. She'd been told she could melt steel with her glare and freeze water with her tone and she's never been happier to use it.

"O-of course, Doctor Cuddy. I don't know what I'm saying, I must be too stressed over the events. I apologize," Richards stammered, turning pale under Lisa's glare.

"I will speak to him and we'll work something out to everyone's liking. If that's settled, you may leave now," Lisa dismissed him, going back to the paperwork he'd interrupted. She heard him splutter for a few seconds before her door slammed shut after Richards' had let himself out.

Lisa looked up and sighed. Richards was right, in a way. No one told Gregory House what to do. Asking him to call a ceasefire on Richards and his office was like asking it to snow in June. He was used to getting his way and didn't know how to take 'no' for an answer.

Lisa glanced at her watch. 10.07 am. It was time for House's unauthorized mid-morning break. Since it was Tuesday and the cafeteria was offering a Reuben's set special, that was where he'll be. And the probability that the reason for this problem was there with him was high.

Lisa got up and buttoned her jacket, pulling it down into place. Professional look in place, she stepped out of her office and headed for the cafeteria.

When Lisa entered the cafeteria, she scanned the room. It didn't take her long to spot a table occupied by two brunettes, one in a white lab coat and the other in a charcoal gray jacket. She watched the two heads close together, one with thick, wavy light brown hair and the other with short, curly dark brown hair, peering at something on the table. Every once in a while, aborted laughter erupted from the one with lighter hair and the other would look at the first with a wry smile on his face, shaking his head while he made another comment.

As she approached the table, the lighter-haired one noticed her approach and whispered to his tablemate. The darker-haired one swept the object they were looking at – Lisa could see that it was a piece of paper – off the table and into his pocket. By the time she stopped at their table, she was greeted with twin looks of innocence, one a warm brown and the other a bright blue. She didn't want to know what was on that piece of paper, Lisa told herself. Ignorance is bliss, especially in a witness stand in a court of law.

"Good morning ladies," House greeted her chest with an exaggerated expression of joy on his face, dark hair sticking out every-which-way. Wilson greeted her more sedately, brown eyes shining with leftover humor. Lisa rolled her eyes, whatever else House might be, he was at least a good friend to Wilson. Most of the time, that is. Wilson had been going around with a weary look in his eyes lately and it was good to see the life back in him again.

"It wasn't a good one for me. Richards came to see me this morning. I better not find whoopee cushions as part of your stationary requisition," Lisa threatened.

"Of course not. Would I do such a thing?" House replied, the look of innocence back on his face. "Can't say the same about Wilson's credit billing though."

"House, leave Richards alone. I mean it. I am not transferring him somewhere else. There _is_ no somewhere else, unless someone would build us a new wing. Oh, I forgot, you cost us two potential donors, didn't you?" Lisa said saccharine sweet.

House ignored her jibe. "He's no fun at all. And very unfriendly. Why, he had 29 different kinds of pizza the other day and didn't offer his poor crippled neighbor a slice so that he wouldn't have to suffer lunch hour rush at the cafeteria. How unneighborly of him," House huffed, doing his best impression of feeling hurt, which was marred by the wink he gave to Wilson.

"Look, I can't move him, you've just got to suck it up. I can't leave the office beside you empty just because you can't stand everyone and everyone can't stand you," said Lisa.

"Not everyone," House said, stealing a fry from Wilson's plate.

"Oh, I'm sorry, all but one," Lisa rolled her eyes. Wilson finally got the drift of the conversation and looked up at House.

"My current office's closer to my patients," Wilson stated out-of-the-blue, as if someone had asked him a question.

"Wouldn't hurt you to walk a little. You wouldn't want to lose that girlish figure now, do you?" House raised an eyebrow. As if he hadn't been trying to clear the office next to his for his partner-in-crime, thought Lisa. He was such a child.

"But if there was an emergency, I wouldn't be able to reach them as quickly," Wilson protested, looking anywhere but at House. By the looks of things, Wilson was close to folding. He never could say 'no' to House.

"That's what we pay nurses for. And the trained monkeys in your department has _got_ to be worth something," House rolled his eyes, giving Wilson a kick under the table. Wilson winced.

"Think of the trouble – I mean, fun – that we could have! We'd have adjoining balconies. We'll have to speak through tin cans. Oh, I know, we can have sleepovers! I'll do your hair and you can do my nails," House said, batting his eyelashes at Wilson. Wilson smiled at the image, looking torn between agreeing and not agreeing. Lisa knew that look, she gave him ten seconds before he folded like a house of cards.

"Oh, all right, but only if Richards is okay with it. And no more pranks trying to get him to move out, okay?" Wilson said.

"Okay, from now on no more pranks," House said agreeably. Both Wilson and Lisa looked at him skeptically. That was really easy for House.

"Okay, I want to see your hands on the table when you promise that again," Wilson demanded, clearing the space in front of House. "And crossing your toes, eyes or any other body part doesn't count."

"Ow, my heart. It hurts when your bestest best friend doesn't believe you," complained House as he placed his hands on the table. "I promise from now on, I won't pull any more pranks on Richards."

"That…was too easy. What are you planning?" Wilson eyed House. House gave him a perfectly innocent look.

"Nothing at all. I've already said I wouldn't do anything to him from now onwards, didn't I?" House said. Wilson stared at him a few moments longer. Lisa saw him arrive at the conclusion the moment it crossed her mind.

"You've already done something, haven't you? Something so evil that it's going to make Richards move out for sure _just_ to avoid seeing you for the rest of his life," Wilson accused. House grinned. Wilson looked at Lisa and she nodded, Wilson getting up as she turned around and headed out of the cafeteria towards the Diagnostics department.

The slight 'thunk' of an irregular gait told Lisa that House was following behind them. They used the lift and it opened in time for them to hear an anguished scream coming down the hallway. Lisa and Wilson gave each other near-identical looks of concern before racing towards the scream, House grinning as he trailed behind.

They came upon Richards, storming out of his office surrounded by a group of grinning, _colorful_ children. He was looking rather colorful himself, with all the colorful handprints on his formerly pristine lab coat. Behind them was a trail of multi-colored footsteps leading towards an equally colorful office. Lisa came to a surprised halt. Beside her, Wilson also stood there in shock.

"Doctor Richards, w-what…?" Lisa couldn't finish her sentence.

"Take the office back. I'd rather set myself up in the janitor's closet than stay in this office one day longer!" Richards declared, the dramatic act of him storming off spoiled by the squishing sounds of his expensive, blue-green Italian loafers. As he passed House in the hallway, he glared at House, which House returned with an unrepentant grin of his own.

Lisa was almost afraid of looking into the office. But when she did, she regretted it immediately. The walls were painted with pictures of rainbows, sunshine and kittens, the windows had handprints and the desk and chairs had footprints. The cleaning bill was going to be enormous.

"Oh, relax. It's all water-soluble. It'll come out in no time," House piped up helpfully. "I hope."

"Well, you've got your wish. Richards moved out. Wilson, you're in. Richards can have your office instead," Lisa threw her hands up in frustration. She should have known that House wouldn't give up that easily. She stormed out of the office, wanting to go back to the _sanity_ of her own office.

As she headed back towards the lifts, House's voice floated behind her. "Don't forget to decorate the office in shades of blue! Jimmy looks good in blue and it brings out the color of my eyes!"

The next day, James Wilson moved into his new office and was greeted by the sight of tin cans and hair curlers on his desk.

-end-


End file.
